Beauty and the Beast
by Lenneth le-Fay
Summary: Belle lives in a small town in France, where adventures and books are the only things lacking -and the only thing she longs for. Her heart yearns for dventure, but of course she cannot have it, until her father is captured by a beast. To save him, to do something good, she takes his place, not knowing that there, she will find what she has always been looking for.
1. Prologue, Part One

Once, there was a castle.

Once, there was a prince.

Then, there was the beast.

It had a beautiful beginning, that turned rancid, as so many stories do.

Drops hung from a chandelier, glass from over the world. Rich red drapes hung over the windows, where a storm raged outside. Beautiful dancers waltzed, as a prince sat in his throne, eyeing them as if they were ripe fruits.

To him, they were.

Guests, lords, ladies, mingled and drank rich red wines. They talked of nothing but parties, their pathetic lives.

Far down in the village, poor folk huddled around fires, wishing for something more. Something like what the prince had. A young woman stood by the well, and looked towards the castle.

She saw how much fun the rich had, and saw the pain of her people. And she wished with all heart that someone could teach this prince what he was doing.

That he was cruel.

That he would never find love.

Far away, a woman heard. But this was no ordinary woman. Her hands flowed with magic, the magic of her realm. She threaded golden strands together and watched the world through her mirror.

She was the young woman and heard her wish. And she saw the prince and saw how cruel he was. The Enchantress pulled on a dark cloak and weathered her features.

Her hands become wrinkly, her face small, her back hunched. She walked towards the castle door and knocked. A man opened the door, and all the talk stopped.

"Sir, I am a weary traveler. Please, may I rest here?"

He laughed at her, and the other guest followed in suit. "You?" he said with scorn. And The Enchantress saw that his beauty, his looks, were the only pretty thing about him.

Still, she felt a spark of pity for this man. "I would warn you not to judge beauty by looks," she said softly.

"I would warn you, tell you to leave," countered the prince. "You have no place here." The woman nodded.

She lifted her cloak, and let the beauty flow back through her. It was truly a beautiful sight. Her body glowed, and she floated into the air.

The prince begged the Enchantress for forgiveness, but he was too late. She thrust her hand outwards, and the prince became a monster.

The lords and ladies were whisked away. And the tall servant become a candle. The boy and his mother become tea pots and cups, and the grandfatherly servant became a clock. The Enchantress looked down at her hand.

In it, was a red rose, fresh as dawn. She looked into the eyes of the beast, which were still blue. "When the petals of this rose fall, you shall all be forever cursed."

The rose flew towards the man, the shattered glass from the party came towards the rose, encircling it in a protection.

And she swept away into the night.


	2. Prologue, Part Two

In the suburbs of Paris, there was a small house. Like every other house, it once had soft lamps and beautiful plants growing.

And like every other house, it had been hit by the plague. The lamps were dimmer now, the garden had fallen into disrepair. So had the house. Now, even the well-loved books became crumbly, dry as dust.

A woman lay on a bed, a shell of her former self. Her once soft curls were dry as straw, and her blue eyes stared at the drapes blankly. "Collette?" came a voice. Her eyes flickered, seemingly focusing on this voice.

With great effort, the woman turned her head. "Maurice?" she whispered. "Maurice! You must leave, leave with Belle!" Her voice was now strong, insistent. Her chest heaved, as she struggled to tell him to leave, her breath caught.

"Collette," he whispered, crestfallen. "I have summoned a doctor." At that moment, a man came through the door. He wore all black, and a crow mask. A plague doctor. He surveyed the woman's boils, marks, worn eyes, and straw hair with a cold distance.

Silently, the man stood over the woman, putting his hand on her forehead. He examined her very thoroughly, and stood up. "There is no hope. The plague has taken her." With those words, Maurice's world crumbled.

"Go!" strained the woman. "Go! Go, before our little Belle dies!" The man nodded, and took his trunk, and his little daughter's basket. The girl looked up at him, lovingly blinking her intelligent blue eyes. So like her parents.

He threw a longing look at his wife, who blew him a kiss. "I love you," he said, stricken, and carried the child into the night.


	3. Chapter One

It was early in the morning. Bakers had put their bread in the oven, shopkeepers threw open their doors, and people began to wake up in the little village of Villeneuve.

Though small, the village was beautiful in its own way. Flowers and trees grew everywhere, and it had a friendly air, where everyone was simple and happy. Well, most people.

But not to Belle, who had always been an odd little girl. From the beginning, she had loved books. The outside world called to her, and she was waiting for the day she could answer. She longed to join a world where she was finally something beyond the little bookworm.

As she walked by, she smiled fondly. Though Villeneuve had its forthcomings, it was still her home. People whispered to each other.

"Look, it's Belle."

"What is she doing now?"

"Oh, hm, that one."

"Hey, what do you think Maurice did this time?"

She was also met with glares, from the baker who she had told was using yeast wrong. And from the woman whose daughter she had told to reject her husband. And from the old woman she had called stupid after he insulted her father. And from the trio of girls….. those girls.

Amelie, Brigitte, and Chloe. They had everything the simple village girl could want. Pretty pink dresses, a rich family, a girl to pick on— guess who, and a whole village of admirers.

They looked on as she walked by, murmuring amongst themselves. No doubt plotting her demise. Again.

She hummed, singing a little lullaby as she walked through the village. Almost all the shops were open now, people ran about doing their business. Kind people from around waved at her, dangling from windows, yelling from stores.

Belle had come to pick up the bread, because her father would never remember. He was absent-minded, Maurice.

She passed by the vegetable vendor, and old woman, and picked up tomatoes, and continued on her way. She looked through the village, to find the man who sold her bread. She soon found him, picked up some bread, dropping coins into his pouch.

He gave her a look, and she smiled back. She slowly grinned, and she was off to the library. "Monsieur!" she called.

The librarian poked his head out. "Ah, Belle! My favorite visitor!" she called. He was a tall young man, with bright brown eyes and round glasses. He gave her a smile.

She smiled back. "I'm your only visitor," she said fondly.

"Details, details," he said, waving his hand. "Is there anything you need, Belle?" he asked.

She pulled five large books out of her backpack, dropping them with a thud. "Do you have anything new for me?" she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. Would you like to reread Romeo and Juliet?" she smiled and nodded.

"Speaking of which, have you gotten Gaston off your tail?"

Belle shook her head.

"No, but I will. One day." She nodded and smiled. "Bye!" she called, and walked back towards her home.


	4. Chapter Two

Belle pushed open the door to her house, setting all her food in the cupboard. "Father?" she called. "Father, I'm home."

She walked into his office, where he sat tinkering. His desk was littered with papers, springs, screws, and other toys. He smiled up at her, and wordlessly put his hand in front of her. In it, she put a spring.

"Correct Belle," he said. "I don't know what I'd do without you." It was true, Belle managed most of the housework, and helped with his projects.

"I'll always be with you, Papa," she said. When she closed the door behind her, he sighed. No, that was not true. He would have to find someone for her— someone who loved and respected her more than he did.

Unfortunately, that would prove to be more difficult than he thought. He sighed, and began to pack for the trip to Paris.

* * *

Belle, headed out to town, and and sat by the fountain, absorbed in her book. She had put her laundry machine— of her own invention— beside her and was enjoying the sun.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town there was to be an uproar. Gaston, and LeFou rode towards the village. "Are you sure you love Belle?" LeFou asked.

"I'm sure," said Gaston, mostly ignoring him. His features would be handsome, but if you looked a little closer, his jaw was too square, and there was madness in those eyes. And also, his nose was also a bit large.

"Wouldn't you want something else? Are you sure she'd match someone as athletically inclined as you? Someone else who would suit you better?"

"That's just it! We would be perfect for each other!" LeFou muttered annoyance under his breath, giving up on Gaston.

As they rode into the village, everyone turned to stare and point. Gaston looked down at the them, and spread his arms for applause. The villagers crowded around him, and asked for his stories.

Although he had only been hunting, he smiled, and told them tales of bears, savages, and deer. Amelie, Briggite, and Chloe screamed and gasped throughout.

"What about one of them?" asked LeFou.

"No, look at them." LeFou followed his gaze. They seemed to swoon as he pointed, giving Gaston fake waves and giggles. "Look at how hard they try. Belle doesn't even try and she is amazing!"

Abruptly, he left and the crowd followed him to the pub, where he was again fawned over.

Belle continued reading, until she finished the chapter. Unlike the first one she had read, about a hero, this was about singers. The romance was beautiful, and she loved the misunderstood characters she could crack.

She set her book down, and pushed her clothes into the machine. She roped the donkey, and he pulled the bucket with him. She looked up, and saw a little girl watching her.

"Come over," she called, and the girl sat beside her. "Do you know how to read?"

"No," said the girl sweetly. Belle smiled, and got out her book, and board. Slowly, the girl began to copy the letters, and recite them.

"Very good!" said Belle. The little girl suddenly looked up. "What is it?"

Belle looked up, and it looked as if half the village had gathered. "Would like me to teach you too?" she asked, even though she knew what was coming.

"Something must be done!" said a dirty farmer. The villagers all nodded, and murmured and yelled their assent.

"Witch child!"

"Devil more like!"

"What a strange girl! She thinks she's so big! All she is books!"

"Won't cook! Nor clean! Nor marry!"

A man ran towards, the donkey, and spilled out all of Belle's laundry. The villagers laughed, murmuring to themselves. Oh yes, what a great job they had done.

Sighing, she picked up her laundry, and put in her basket. She'd have to leave now, or it would only get worse. As she walked, she seemed to be getting even more stares than usual.

The village was busy today… and this only happened when. Oh. No. Gaston. Speaking of the devil, he came running towards her.

"Oh my dear Belle," he breathed as he saw her. She was truly beautiful, a good figure, warm eyes, soft hair he longed to hold.

"Gaston," she says. Guarded. Belle tried carefully to hide her, emotion.

"Lovely Belle, will you marry me?" She suppressed a groan. It was the same thing every time -this man would never take a hint.

"No, Gaston," she said, stepping back. "I really shall not." He followed her, and they took steps, she making for home.

"I'm sorry my love. I would have known just the thing in the village! Those people -disrespecting you that way. Would you like me to step in?"

Step in? He loved those people, just as stupid as he was, "No, thank you," she said politely.

"But Belle," he said, taking her hand. She flinched in disgust, and pulled her hand away.

"No buts Gaston. I really must go," she said, gracefully, pulling her hand away, twirling, and opening the door. She then shut it in his face, and leaned against it, happy to have warded off Gaston yet again.


	5. Chapter Three

The next day, Maurice woke bright and early. Today, he left for Paris, to sell his creations. He loaded the little houses, waterfalls, birds, castles, and princes gently into the cart, over the machines.

He looked to find Belle, holding a bag of food, and another with clothes. She kissed his cheek. "Come back soon Father," she told him.

"I will, my dear. What would you like me to bring back for you?" he knew her answer, but he had always hoped she would ask for something more.

"One white rose," she told him. "Like in the painting." He smiled. Her mother had held a white rose, in the last painting that had been made of her.

He hooked the horse to the cart, and sat down. "Goodbye Belle."

"Goodbye Father!" she called, waving until he disappeared from view.

Hours later, Maurice was still going towards Paris. He patted his horse's side. "I'm sorry Phillipe," he said.

He was lost, he knew it. Had taken almost 5 changes of road, and paths still looked the same. Howls had began to punctuate the night, and the wind whistled. The bushe and trees only grew thicker, and could barely see.

Both he and Philippe we already soaked to the skin. Now, he came to another fork in the road. He chose right, and looked around.

Every once in awhile, he saw glowing blue eyes, which disappeared a second after he looked. Philippe neighed loudly. "Yes?" asked Maurice.

And the sight that met him almost made him fall of Phillipe. Blocking his path, no more than 3 meters away, was wolf. Not a grey wolf, but a pure white wolf with eyes as cold as the finest sword steel.

The wolf growled, and Philippe stepped back. Then, in seemingly no time, it pounced. Philippe bolted throwing Maurice off the horse.

In the second he fell, Maurice saw his precious creations fall, shatter like glass. Beautiful pieces glowed in the light of the moon, which had come out. It looked like candy in the dirt. Then his back hit the ground hard.

From all the trees came wolves, all the same. The opened their mouths with needle teeth and ran towards him. Maurice jumped up in fear, and ran, almost tripping over the glass.

The wolves pursued him, and he hid behind a tree. I'm sorry Belle, he thought over and over. I love you.

Soon, the woods were quiet. Too quiet. Perhaps his flight had been successful. Just at that moment, a wolf crept from around the tree, and another from a high branch. The wolves were so close he could hear their breath, feel its warmth, and smell the death.

He was dead. He swatted at them with a fallen branch, using all his strength. The wolves came out from the trees again, pushing him back until he hit a riverbank. In a stroke of luck and timing, Philippe ran by. Maurice grabbed his reins, thanking him as they rode on.

The wolves however, still pursued them. Their eyes glowed like a thousand steel lamps, and their moon pelts followed him. He urged Philippe on, but he was not sure of how long Philippe could run.

Soon, the bushes became thicker again. Now, there was much more fog. The woods were overgrown, and too cold. Far too cold. It was June, and it felt just like winter. Maurice did not believe in curses, but he felt like this wood had a something akin to a curse.

He swatted and a branch forward, and peered through a bush. To his right, there were a large circle of hedges. And there seemed to be…. a castle? He could see little of it.

He ordered Philippe that way, hoping to get some rest. Why was it quiet? He looked backwards and saw the wolves stopped, as if by magic. They wore smug sneers now, and he knew somehow that something dark lurked in that castle.

As Maurice and Philippe traveled towards the castle, the gate opened all on it's own. Ridiculous, thought Maurice. As if that could happen. There was a logical explanation.

There had to be.


	6. Chapter Four

I'm sorry about any errors in this story -missing or double chapters. Hopefully I've fixed them. In the mean time, happy reading!

* * *

Maurice gasped. It was huge! The castle was dark but so large he could feel the emptiness. He saw the dust move slowly, and disappear in the blackness. As the storm threw light around the grand room, he saw glinting glass, a diamond chandelier. The curtains were velvety and rustled as snow blew in. "Hello?"

"Anybody?" There was no answer. The wind blew again, and for a second he seemed to see large shadows. "May I come in?" The doors slammed behind him. He shrugged and walked down the long hall.

His feet made prints on the deep carpet and saw large marks, the size of a cutting board. They looked new. Maurice shivered.

"Psst! Over here!" said small voice. He whipped around. "Over here!" He saw a small hand beckoning to him. He followed the sound of the voice. Finally, someone in this godforsaken place!

The voice led him through a set of doors, and into a well-lit room. There were large red armchairs and a table. And food. Warm, fresh, food. There were drumsticks, glistening grapes, glasses of blood-red wine, and all manner of small petite cakes. "May I sit?" he asked. This did not feel like the most forgiving place there could be.

After some time with no response, he sat. Slowly, he put food on his plate and began to eat. The food was certainly very good. Warm, savory, sweet, delicious. "I suppose I should thank you. This wonderful."

"Thank you!" said a small voice. Maurice's head whipped around.

"Where are you?"

"Here!" Maurice looked on, horrified. The voice had come from a tea cup. This couldn't be real. Teacups didn't talk.

"Now Chip, you don't want to startle him," said a matronly voice. The teapot. The kitchenware was talking. No, he was going insane.

"Hello!" said another voice. A clock. A candle. This place was wrong. A bad dream.

"We're real you know," said the cup. Maurice stumbled backwards and ran. The food was not worth this madness. He burst through the doors, his hair wild and almost tripped over. Once in the storm he ran down the path to the stables, and burst in covered in snow. "Phillipe, time to leave."

Philippe neighed and allowed Maurice to mount him, and they flew into the storm. "Faster!" Maurice urged Philippe. Leaves and flowers and snow flew by and he looked around. There wasn't a thing in sight. Suddenly, he saw something. Just a flash of white, but he knew what he saw. A glistening white rose.

"Philippe! Stop!" He had promised his Belle he would bring her something. Now, they would be poor and miserable, because he was a fool. At least let him give this small gift, in recompense for what had happened. He could not fail his only child.

Slowly, he jumped off the horse. Blood still flowed through his veins at a dangerous rate, and he advanced shakily.

This path was filled with white roses. The bloomed from every hedge, and in the center there was a gazebo. Vines and thorns covered it, and though beautiful it seemed as if it hadn't been maintained in a while. As he walked forward his foot sunk. He looked down. There was a huge print. He gulped and moved forward.

Every rose was perfection. Glistening petals, green stems, droplets of water, beautiful snow. This place was magical, he could feel something hear. Something, ancient, powerful. But something, wrong. Now again, terror settled within him. But this terror was worse. Blood did not flow through him, dread did.

Slowly, Maurice turned around, and fell backwards. From the shadows loomed a monster. "HOW DARE YOU!" it thundered, and he then he saw nothing. Belle, he thought I love you.


End file.
